Author Archives: apeville

Vogelsong Scores a Hat, I Score a Selfie Opportunity

16 Saturday May 2015

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Few things in life are as exciting as going to Cincinnati. Am I right people?

You got yer cinnamon chili forced on to a plate of pasta, you got yer fantastic industrially financed art museums, you got your gritty downtown, and you will almost certainly run into Giants pitcher Ryan Vogelsong in a Greek Hat Shop.  Or, at least I did a few hours before the Reds Vs. Giants game on Thursday.

I was dragging my wife on a must-see speciality tour of downtown Cincy, which must include Batsakes hat shop on 6th Street.  I had already been once the day before but figured that she must also see it as she is Greek-American and it is owned by the friendliest Greek people in the state of Ohio. Greek people always seek out each other and I was just doing my part to continue that fine and mysterious tradition. Plus, they had lots of fabulous autographed baseballs I needed to inspect a little more closely.

When we got to the shop and I decided to give my kind wife an out, which she took. Which was not the expected response. So, I vetoed my own offer and counter-offered with a ‘just peek in variation’ that was ratified by a 3/4 majority.  (1/2 of me was feeling a bit of guilt and abstained on voting.)

As we walked in I immediately spotted the first San Francisco Giant I have ever seen that wasn’t on a baseball field.  It was Ryan Vogelsong. Pitcher.  All-Star Pitcher.  Nice human pitcher. Just standing there. Talking to Gus the hat salesman. Actually, Gus was doing most of the talking. Ryan was politely listening but seemed to be anxious to get out as Gus spouted on about cold war politics.

He got even more anxious (in a nice, professional sort of way) when he saw my Giants hoodie.

Oh crap, here we go... I could almost hear him thinking.

And this is where my inner dialogue took over between the fan in me and the man in me.

Fan: GET HIS PHOTO! NOW! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE THIS CHANCE AGAIN.

Man: He clearly doesn’t have time for this. I’d rather him focus on getting to practice.

Fan: HE’S A CELEBRITY, THIS IS PART OF HIS JOB.

Man: He’s a regular guy who’s in a hurry.  He’s a quiet non-celebrity type. He surely gets this all the time and I don’t want to add to the long list of people bugging him for no good reason.  It’s enough that he gives his all on the mound.  We have gone this long and never asked a celeb for a selfie.  Remember Mickey Rooney at the ice cream shop? Remember the guy from The Big Lebowski at the airport?  We let ’em be. And we felt good about it.

Fan: I DON’T CARE. THIS IS BASEBALL. It’s different.

Man: Isn’t enough that we got to run in to him? These guys work like dogs, give him some peace on his day off. Let him just have a normal run to the hat shop.

FAN: Yes. I guess you are right.  Hey Man, look out the window…..isn’t that Romo going in to Skyline Chili?

Man:  Where…? Wha…

FAN: Excuse me Ryan, do you have time for a two second selfie?

And he did. He was pretty gracious about it. I felt guilty about asking, I feel guilty about it now. And I will probably always feel guilty about it.  But I love the photo– even though I look like a what I was at that moment, a fan dweeb with no clue of what to say to him.

And I’ll never do it again. You know, unless, say…Duffy in a Mexican Restaurant. He looks like he’d love the attention.

Vogelsong with Dweeb

Vogelsong with Dweeb

We Could All Use A Free T-shirt..and other rationalizations.

26 Sunday Apr 2015

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So if there is a new MILB ballpark opening anywhere within one tank of gas, I gotta go.  So I went to Nashville.  On a Tuesday.  And it was kind of cold.  And my car broke down. And there was a fix-it place with great Yelp reviews one block from where it started to go down.  And they fixed it in one hour.  And they didn’t cheat me. But it was still more money than I wanted to spend. But it could have broken down on I-40 in Putnam County. But it didn’t. And now it’s fixed and running better than ever.  So I was I was off to races. And it was free T-shirt night.  But only if you are one of the first 1,000 in the park.  And I was. So I got one. And it’s 100% cotton. And now I was warmer with extra cotton.

Sometimes you just have get out of town in a sickly car and take some chances if you want a free bright red Nashville Sounds T-shirt. I know I own a thrift store full of T-shirts.  But this one is RED. And FREE. And real COTTON. And….RED.

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I got there about an hour before my pal (as opposed to sitting on the side of I-40 in Putnam County) and decided to do the glorious walk around First Tennessee Park. Nothing says baseball like a bank I have no love for.  But, in this case, I’ll have to call it even with said bank because the park is fabulous. It’s big, clean, fun, chocked full of gregarious staff and padded seats, and as a bonus (?)…. a wandering hot chicken.

Anybody else got an idea why the hot chicken is a mascot?

I didn’t think so.

My long time pal and musical cohort Dug Meech met me at the gate and we assumed our padded seats down the third base line. We managed to see a great evening of baseball, discuss the record we are working on, have some laughs about beer sales pitches and aging, and not see Barry Zito.

Speaking of the beer, it came in GIANT CANS.  But it was chilly enough to where an enthusiastic ‘coldest beer in Nashville’ claim didn’t sound particularly appealing. In fact, that’s how he talked me out of it. Dug, being ready for any adventure, went for it. I had beer envy fairly soon after that.

Somewhere before last call, the enthusiastic senior pushing giant beer in a shiny can was giving it one more go to some reluctant drinkers on the first row. As he gave up and walked away, he slowly turned back for one final pitch:

I’m just trying to help you people!

He went down swinging.

Play Ball! Hold it…can you wait 30 minutes? Can *I* hold it 30 minutes?

06 Monday Apr 2015

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http://hardballtalk.nbcsports.com/2015/04/06/opening-night-at-wrigley-field-half-hour-bathroom-lines-and-dudes-peeing-in-corners/comment-page-1/#comment-888794

If you don’t want to read the link, I can summarize it thusly: The are not enough bathrooms in a certain famous Chicago ballpark.

And now the overpriced souvenir cups suddenly seem like a fair value.

Double Headed Monster

16 Monday Mar 2015

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So….when a 76-year-old man suggested hitting two spring training games in two different cities on one day, you will feel like a wimp if you don’t do it.  And so we did.

The first stop:  Joker Marchant stadium in Lakeland.  Where?

Near Orlando.  Lots of stuff is near Orlando.  Even Orlando is near Orlando.

My buddy Camp zoomed us in via his I-phone app that outsmarted the traffic jam. Yes, sometimes technology makes life easier as opposed to just vaguely feeling like really weak heroin.

The first stop after a long drive in Florida traffic is….well you know what that is.  The second stop is the obligatory visit to the gift shop.  Matt, I hope you like your new fetching and festive Tigers pencil.

We found our primo seats (they are all primo at Joker Marchant) and were soon surrounded by some very happy Tiger fans.  Well, until their beer got low- which was about the same time as Nathan came in to pitch and gave up six runs. At that time, they turned in to world class hecklers. I felt sorry for Nathan but who wants to follow Verlander?  Nobody wants to follow Verlander except for his brother, the hitter who snagged two hits and an RBI.  The fans were happy again. They got happy fast.

I know I say this about baseball fans everywhere, but the Tiger fans truly are that perfect blend of gregarious and respectful.  Engaged and observant. Tipsy but not wasted. Enthusiastic but polite.  Unless you are Nathan blowing another inning. In which case, they turn into their team name.

It was a great game even though the Phillies pulled off the win. Who cares? We are at baseball in March. Everybody else is at work. To not enjoy yourself is a crime. Far be it from our trio to break the baseball law.

We grabbed our sunscreen and Tigers pencil and headed out back towards Tampa for a night game:  Braves vs. the Yankees. I see a future where global warming creates more night games in March. It’s the only plus I can think of for global warming. Camp scored outstanding tickets down the first base line, which put us in a great location to watch Tanaka pitch, A-Rod sign autographs, and to witness the battle of the creative cotton candy vendors. Would you have thought to use a train whistle to help sell cotton candy?

Waiting on the game to start and the sun to set.

Waiting on the game to start and the sun to set.

I picked up a program, the slickest and thickest of the Spring Training programs, chocked full of information about the PAST.  There were more pictures of the retired Jeter than of any current player.  In fact, it was basically a Jeter magazine with a scorecard in it. But the fans love Jeter, even if he isn’t there- as witnessed by the plethora of #2 jerseys.

I love the Yankees fans by and large, I really do. But they definitely can lay claim to having the most obnoxious team supporters. Say, the guy next to me. Let’s call him the Bombed Bronxer.

The Bombed Bronxer, like any wasted human, was keen on narrating each and every play with his own special, slurry style. The Braves were all ‘beeches’ and the Yanks were…all ‘beeches’ as well. He gave a running monologue, to no one in particular, about his girlfriend’s breasts, about how he shouldn’t have ‘taken so much’ of that stuff, about fairly accurate predictions of which of their body parts would hit us as they squeezed down the aisle, about how his girlfriend should go get him more beer because he was too drunk to get it himself, and so forth.  Note: he didn’t use lackluster terms like breasts and body parts.

This was a particularly exciting game because it marked the return of the injured and honorable Yankees ace, Tanaka. It also was a showcase for the reputation injured A-Rod who was MORE than eager to sign whatever needed signing. Camp waltzed down and snapped this:

IMG_7172

And yet, despite his good will tour down the first base line, he got booed at the plate, but not by the Bombed Bronxer. I think the Bronxer had a crush on him.

To sum up the game:  Tanaka pitched beautifully for two innings, taking the Braves down one by one. I am a Braves fan but I am also a fan of great pitching and this guy just really has it down. I would happily take a free ticket to see him pitch anytime, anywhere. It was a perfect cool night with lots of great plays, solid action, and good seats to watch it all from, with additional free add-on entertainment all around us.  Until he passed out.

Hey, Mickey?

15 Sunday Mar 2015

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The list of Grapefruit League stadiums left for me to visit has been shrinking fast.  All that’s left are those that are far away (Hellooooooo, Mets!) and those that don’t sound very appealing.  There is actually only one on that ugly list.  And here I am.  Champion Stadium is the name of this park and it’s located in scenic Disney World.  Yep, the Atlanta Braves chose this place. I’m sure somebody in a very nice suit had at least one compelling reason to have a baseball stadium in a non-baseball corporate theme park. I can’t imagine what it was but I bet it has something to do with money vs. soul.

At first, I thought my buddy Camp was joking when he said that the park was IN Disney World.  He was not joking because I am here looking at Goofy, the Braves mascot.  I cannot abide this.  There are many things I cannot abide around here.  How about a list?

1.  Goofy as mascot.

2.  A fairly thin program that costs more than the thick Yankees program.

3.  There are no Braves fans here. Anyone else find that odd?

4.  There are not so many baseball fans here.  Many are too young to know what they are. They are still high on Mickey.  The fact the family is here at all must be a concession to dad, at best.

5.  Even though the parking is free, it’s in the next county. You are robbed of great amounts of anticipatory joy just by schlepping from your car to the stadium.

6.  The court of flags in the left field berm boasts the colorful flags of great teams like Alamo, HP, Chaquita and Jif Peanut Butter. I wish this were a joke. I guess it is, but the joke is on the fans. Unless you are that special type of fan that really like cheering for rental car companies. REMEMBER THE ALAMO WHEN YOU NEED A CAR!

7. Disney imagery and iconography is forced on top of sacred baseball imagery and iconography.

And yet, even though I am typing while the Blue Jays are batting, I have been having a good time…almost. The staff are the absolute friendliest of all the parks. The water is only double the normal price (instead of the stand up triple they usually hit you with) and the kind and alert senior citizen employees encourage you to fill up your empty bottle at the water fountain. One attendant let me know my sunscreen was not completely rubbed into my nose.  Everybody there wants you to enjoy yourself, even if you are holding grudges against Goofy.

And yes, I still hold such a grudge.

But here is where they won me over. Before the game, the Atlanta Saxophone Group came out and played actual music. Wonderful, human, non-computerized, music. They played it well and it replaced much recently lost joy in a mere flash.  I don’t know whose idea this was, but this was a wonderful pre-game experience devoid of the corporate overload from every direction. In fact, it served as a powerful antidote. I should book them a gig at the airport hotel.

Again, I don’t know who thought of adding a sax quartet for entertainment-  but I’m damned sure it wasn’t the robot that suggested making the stadium in the middle of a theme park and then throw in, for good measure, Goofy as the mascot.

Play ball.  Next time, though, somewhere else, please.

IMG_7408

A Nice Place to Sit

10 Tuesday Mar 2015

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About this time last year I was zooming down I-75, rocking out to an obscure live Springsteen recording, windows down, hopes high, Fritos slowly digesting as I made my way to spring training in Florida.  There is nothing quite like the anticipation of baseball season.  Except that moment when it arrives. You get a second chance every single year and they all feel the same. Fabulous.

This all makes for an enjoyable 12-hour drive. It’s the drive back that kills the joy. The only thing the drive back offers is an experience in the rear view mirror, temps dropping every 20 exit signs or so and many great opportunities to eat rotating corn dogs at the Shell station.

So, this year, I flew.  Or the plane did, I just sat there.

I have tired of the flying experience but at least when flying I don’t have to concentrate while moving at high speeds. Just give me an aisle seat, some pretzels and a junky magazine and I’ll be somewhere in near the ‘content’ range.

If I’m being greedy, I prefer sitting next to an empty seat.  That not being possible, I’ll settle for small people.  Not children, but small and not particularly chatty adult humans.  Do I need to explain that even though I like children just fine I REALLY don’t want to share that space with them? I didn’t think so.

Clear skies, no wind, on time.  Moving easily through time and space. Perfect.  Oh, but wait, as  bonus I realized I was sitting next to a very small adult.  Enough leg room for each of my legs. No cramps. No frowns.

I would say this pushed me into the high end of ‘content’ range. The self-hyped anticipation of the upcoming baseball adventure had not been in vain. I was about to see MORE, MORE, MORE BASEBALL. IN THE SUN. OUTSIDE. WITHOUT SNOW.

The only thing that really grated on my particular set of nerves was the squeaking of the mic caused by a rather poor understanding of sound and audio equipment by our otherwise top notch flight staff.  (And yes, I know the mic itself doesn’t squeak. I put it that way in case any flight attendants are reading this, less they be baffled.)

They broke in just about cruising altitude to tell us that on our flight was a certain little eight year old girl named Courtney.  Courtney was about to pop out of her seat because her whole family was going to the worlds of both Disney and Sea, courtesy of the Make-A-Wish-Foundation. I don’t know what Courtney’s back story was, but I sensed something very tragic in it.  Dressed in painfully adorable Minnie Mouse gear, she even took the mic herself to tell everybody her plans.  Her mom was wet eyed.  And here I thought I was the most excited kid on the plane.

I believe that’s right about when the guilt started to set in.  GO AWAY GUILT, DO NOT RUIN MY PERFECT VACATION.

Yet it returned.

Along with silent thoughts like: Maybe I should have taken the money for this trip and given it to the Make-A-Wish-Foundation.

Countered by thoughts like: Oh come on dude, you can still give money to the Make-A-Wish-Foundation, or help somebody out along the way, or something. There’s space enough in the joy room for both you, Courtney and her crying mom. 

And thoughts like: Don’t you feel funny about worrying about the size of the person in the seat next to you given what true suffering is going on in the world? And the fact YOU, tall man who eats Fritos, are cramping the person next to you?

Countered by:  Yeah, I feel a little sheepish on that one.

I thought about all of this a lot and was not finished thinking about it when the plane touched down in Orlando. It hung in my head all the way through baggage claim.

I’m still not sure that I reached a conclusion- but I do know when life offers you a good seat, appreciate it, and just sit.

Bone Chips?

07 Saturday Feb 2015

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It’s amazing what one can learn in the off season, just by reading tired, bland baseball news. But read it I do. I  can’t help it. You see, friends, at the present there is no baseball. Sometimes, though, I feel like a pothead desperately (but skillfully) scraping residue out of the bong until the new hemp arrives

While reading during the doldrums, one learns a lot about the business side of baseball which goes from fascinating to pedestrian right about the time the winter tease sun arrives.  And eventually, all the baseball news runs out and people are left to argue about Pete Rose again.  That’s when you know the news cycle is gasping for air.  They don’t want to write it.  But they do.  You don’t want to read it- or the comments- but you do.

You can also learn a lot of weird health stuff.  Take Bone Chips, for example. It sounds like a failed Ben and Jerry’s ice cream flavor, doesn’t it?

THIS JUST IN: Giants pitcher Tim Hudson has bone chips. Can you BELIVE it? I read up on it all morning.

Scintillating.

And there is only one thing sadder than a baseball junkie settling for stories about bone chips in lieu of watching an actual game.  Know what it is?

Reading about somebody reading about bone chips, that’s what.

Six weeks until pitchers and catchers report and finally stop sitting at home watching bad movies

05 Monday Jan 2015

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So, these hollywood moguls got together in a nice conference room with some quality coffee and came up with an idea: Let’s make a movie with a bunch of guys, hopefully on the attractive side for the good guys, and they all shoot each other all the time, killing a lot of unattractive people. Then they shoot a bunch of other people of all styles. Then maybe, if that gets to be a bit played out, somebody gets some dynamite to blow people up all over the place. Then some more shooting. And then everybody chases somebody. 

Mogul 1: Ah, we’ve done that a lot lately.

Mogul 2: Yeah, true. How about we just change it to stabbing instead of guns?

Mogul 1: Great idea, brilliant! We can make it in Roman times so there can be lots of bloody squishing swords. But what do we change the dynamite to?

Mogul 3: Well….say,….volcanic projectile fire? And, you know, we should probably throw in an attractive semi-ethnic looking female in there to fall for the attractive underdog guy who stabs real good. And, uh, the marketing department says to make him British.  Also, via text, they approved ‘semi-ethnic’ but told us not to go past that and to be sure and avoid ethnic classic.

Mogul 2: And some more stabbing? Everybody good on some extra stabbing? Great. Is a flood overdoing it?

Mogul President: NOW, we’re talking. I have no idea what to call it though. We’ll think of something. Pretend it’s historical and we’re good to go.

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Hence concludes my review of Pompeii.